


Instruments of Fate

by Issay



Series: Of Death and Transfiguration [3]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: M/M, Merlin meddles, Smut, mentions of OCs - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 16:01:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3453320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Issay/pseuds/Issay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Merlin's job is to watch his agents closely, know them better than they know themselves, anticipate their needs and expect no thank-yous"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Instruments of Fate

"Merlin's job is to watch his agents closely, know them better than they know themselves, anticipate their needs and expect no thank-yous" was the only piece of advice young, twenty four year old Merlin got from his predecessor, an elderly lady with steely eyes and a smile that reminded him of his grandma before she retired. It was rare for someone working inside Kingsman agency to just leave but she was old and wanted to live the rest of her life in peace. So she hand-picked the new Merlin, spend two weeks teaching him the procedures and tech they had, and then cheerfully left for her cottage in north Cumbria.  
And Merlin did.  
He's spent years watching his agents. He knows everything there was to know about them. That Bedivere takes his tea with goat milk (think Merlin could never understand and, to be honest, he didn't want to). That Dinadan has three kidneys and a slight heart defect - not that it ever stopped him from doing anything. That Sagramore is a woman of many skills but having a conversation with a child was not one of them. Merlin knows about all the skeletons in their closets, childhood enemies, broken homes, sexual preferences, illnesses and soft spots. He knows what the slightest whimper meant, or a snort, or slumped shoulders.  
It takes him precisely five seconds to foresee what is going to happen between Harry and Eggsy.  
But then Harry is shot and miraculously comes back to life, and world almost goes to shit in the process but then it doesn't, and Merlin hopes for a happy ending for the new Arthur and his Galahad.  
From the look of things, fate needs to be helped.  
"They just...are," says Lancelot one day, pouring Merlin a cup of tea. "Cookie? Butterscotch. No? More for me, then. Anyway, from what I gather none of them has the balls to take the first step. Sad, really. They can overthrow governments but when it comes down to emotions they both act like children. Honestly, they should just screw one another into the mattress and get this over with."  
"Language, Lancelot," he scolds her softly and smiles.  
Obviously he noticed how Arthur would be grumpy and annoyed, and how Galahad got more aggressive every time he was in the field.  
Yes, fate indeed needs to be helped. And Merlin is always perfectly helpful.

*

They end up in a one room cottage in the middle of nowhere, Scotland, because apparently Merlin is a bloody jerk.  
"You will have to wait for transport 'till tomorrow," their technical wizard says with badly covered glee in his voice. "I hope it will not be a problem."  
He doesn't really wait for an answer, abruptly finishing transmission.  
"Arsehole," mutters Eggsy and sheds his soaking wet jacket.  
„Let me guess, somehow he can't send the jet?” asks Harry with no surprise evident in his voice. While Eggsy was busy talking to Merlin, the older man took stock of the cottage – no electricity, of course. Candles. One big blanket. Some canned food, crackers, chocolate, three unopened bottles of water. Five towels. First aid kit. Jar of vaseline.  
Harry stops at the sight of the last one and carefully closes the drawer.  
“I almost looks like a standard Kingsman safe house,” he mutters. Galahad stops unbuttoning his shirt.  
“You too have a feeling that we're being set up?”  
“Wouldn't be the first time. Towel?”

They set up comfortably in front of the fireplace, the only sounds being crackling of the firewood and rain, constantly drumming on the window glass. They eat crackers with canned beef in companionable silence and share a bottle of water, deciding to have two spares in case Merlin wants to keep them in Scotland a bit longer.  
“I guess we should get some sleep,” says Harry eventually. “I'll take the floor.”  
“Don't be daft,” Eggsy squints at him and that's the end of the discussion. Before Harry realizes, he's on the lonely sofa, under a blanket and with the younger man resting his head on his chest. He's not going to protest, not really. Though the wool pants are getting slightly too tight because of the body almost covering his, because of how deliciously warm and heavy it is. Harry sighs, mentally preparing himself for a sleepless night.  
“You're overthinking this whole thing, you know,” says Eggsy after a while. Carefully he slides up – Harry's breath hitches – and his lips are on Harry's, hot and wet and absolutely _perfect._  
“It's very simple,” he continues after kissing his Arthur breathless and leaving him a bothered mess. “ I want you, you want me, there are no non-fraternization rules – I checked, Harry, did you know that Morholt and Tor lived together for thirty years and nobody made a fuss? So stop fucking slacking and kiss me like you mean it, you daft, wonderful man.”  
And Harry does.

He remembers it in flashes. Not the whole thing, just moments, like when Eggsy finally gets rid of his pants and the sound he makes when Harry's lips envelope the head of his cock, almost a howl and Harry stops to say that he wants to hear him, that there is no one else in the vicinity and even if there was, he doesn't really care.  
Or how breathless he is at the sight of the younger man, completely naked, who leaves him just for a little moment to get the vaseline – Harry makes a mental note to thank Merlin later, maybe with a fucking fruit basket – and then comes back, face flushed, and asks to be fucked.  
And how hot he is on Harry's nimble, smart fingers, and God, the sight of Eggsy naked and writhing, so open and unashamed, crying out when Harry finds that one spot deep inside.  
It's the first time he remembers that his hands were shaking as he entered his...his protege, his partner, his lover, as cheap as it sounds.  
“Holy sh...” moans Eggsy and Harry moves because there is nothing else left in the world but move, the overwhelming urge to pump his hips as fast and as hard as he dares, chasing the pleasure in that cold, dark Scottish night.  
And finally, when there are no more words and they have no strength to even move, as there is still warm come slipping out of Eggsy and the man look thoroughly debauched, Harry smiles.  
Because why the hell not.

*

Merlin doesn't expect gratitude – because that is Merlin's job. But the fruit basket with a note written in a very familiar handwriting, saying _'We are not going to talk about this. Thank you.'_ , well, it's a nice gesture. Also, he won the office pot, which now he also has to share with Roxy - price of her keeping to herself the fact that he helped the two men get their heads of of their arses.  
Merlin chuckles and goes back to work.

**Author's Note:**

> Here ends the "Death and Transfiguration" series. Fear not, I already have some more ideas ;)  
> It was great fun to write it and to challenge myself since smut and fluff are the two things in fanfiction I find hard to write. Thank you for reading and hopefully see you soon!  
>  [Find me on tumblr!](http://issayscorner.tumblr.com/)


End file.
